


The Cygnet in July

by bluetoast



Series: Birds of a Feather [66]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Accidents, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liesel was having a good summer. She got her license, had job and had been given her grandparent's old car - that all changed when someone ran a red light and crashed into her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cygnet in July

Liesel Coulter did her best to cover her yawn as she set down an almost overflowing bus tub down at the dish-washing station. The dinner crowd at the Portsmouth Steak House were almost gone and it was nearly ten at night – she had been on her feet for almost six hours. The dishwasher gave her a worn look and then glanced at her tub, his face frowning at the sight of something left on one of the plates. He shook his head and went back to work as she washed her hands, picked up a container of clean glasses and headed back out into the dining room. 

It'd been an okay summer so far. She'd gotten her driver's license and was currently driving her grandparent's old car, a Cadillac that had been new the year she was born. Her dad liked it because it was reliable. Liesel just liked it because it had four wheels, and engine and it worked. 

She brought the glasses over to the bar and set the container down, quickly stacking the glasses and then handing them to Ian, who was in charge of the bar tonight. Because she was under eighteen, she couldn't stand fully behind the bar – so she managed the best she could. He handed her the bus tub full of bar glasses and she went back to the kitchen. 

“Coulter? You going to want something to eat?” Ethan, the head chef called from where he was working on the grill. “I'm getting ready to cook the staff meals.”

“Not tonight, thanks. All I want is a hot shower and some sleep.” She took the tub over to the dishwasher, picked up another container of glasses, and went back out to the bar. Looking back, she'd regret not staying for food – if she'd stayed, then what followed would have never happened.

*  
Dean had to question the people who scheduled surgeries sometimes. Then again, this morning some poor woman had died in a car wreck and tonight, her heart was being transplanted into the body of a nineteen year old boy who needed it. These were things you couldn't exactly plan. He had a lot of sympathy for that woman's family, whoever they were. 

He turned his focus onto the monitor, watching as the young man's pulse slowed to the proper rate and gave the cardiac surgeon slight nod. 

With luck, this surgery would be successful and over in a few hours. 

*  
Liesel sent her dad a text message before leaving work, saying she was on her way home. She turned off her cell, stuck it into her purse and pulled out of the parking lot. When the traffic was light like it was at ten-thirty at night, it only took her ten minutes to get home. She pulled to a stop at a red light, wincing at the pain in her lower back. She really needed to work on remembering to lift with her knees. The light turned green and she pulled forward.

The SUV came out of nowhere. 

The larger vehicle slammed into her side of the car, almost dead center between the hood and the driver's door. The impact caused her car to spin around the intersection and then the same side slammed into the pole of the traffic light. The airbag bloomed in front of her face the same way the pain exploded across the left side of her body. 

It was all confusion and she couldn't think. 

There was the screech of tires, shattering glass – and then silence. 

Liesel couldn't move – she blinked once or twice – trying to figure out what the hell just happened. 

Sirens.

She turned her head to the side, looking out the passenger side door. She could see a different car – something red – the car that hit her had been white – and a face appeared in the passenger window – just as the windshield exploded over her head. She shut her eyes, wincing in pain. 

“Kid?” The stranger must have broken the passenger side window, so they could get into the car. “Kid, talk to me!”

Liesel just wanted to sleep. Sleep would make everything better. Maybe her legs would stop hurting while she did. She opened her eyes, looked at the stranger and then her brain registered one last thought before she was swept into unconsciousness – she didn't want the next person she saw to be her mom.

*  
Michael Coulter had been about ready to go to bed when the light above the phone flashed, and he frowned. It was eleven at night – far to late for anyone to be making a social call. He went over to the phone, frowning at the caller ID – Sam Houston Mercy Hospital. That was the hospital where Dean worked. He adjusted his hearing aide and answered. “Hello?”

“Is this Michael Coulter?” It was the worn voice of a woman. 

“Yes.” He saw Elisa come into the living room, looking confused. The flashing of the phone must have woken her up. “How may I help you?”

“This is Melissa Tate at Sam Houston Mercy. Your number was listed as a person to contact in case of an emergency.” 

Panic suddenly gripped his heart. “Is it Dean?” 

“No sir, it's your granddaughter, Liesel.” 

Michael gripped the back of the chair. “What happened?” This was somehow worse than it being Dean. Liesel? What sort of emergency could she have?

“I am not at liberty to discuss this over the phone. If you could please come to the hospital, all will be explained then.”

“Is she all right?” He saw Elisa cover her mouth, she'd been reading his lips. 

“She is listed as being in stable but critical condition. Your questions can better be answered by the responding members of the staff.” How could this woman sound so flat? 

“If she's awake, tell her that her grandmother and I are on our way.” He took a breath. “And thank you.” He hung up the phone. _“Liesel's been in an accident.”_

Panic appeared on Elisa's face. _“What?”_

 _“We need to go. Dean must still be in the middle of surgery, or they wouldn't have called us.”_ He guided her down to their bedroom so they could get dressed and leave. 

*  
Liesel was stunned back into being awake. Pain ripped through her body like fire.

“We've got a pulse!” A man's voice, unfamiliar.

She winced at the light that was shone in her eyes, and their voices sounded distant, like a television playing in another room. Her whole body hurt – her left side more than her right. There was a brace around her neck and people moving above her, and her chest was cold. Of course it was cold, someone had cut her shirt and bra off. She was in too much pain to be embarrassed.

“We're going to need two pints of B positive.” That was a woman. 

“Where the hell is X-Ray?” A man, sounding angry.

A hand touched her cheek and the pain was back. She just wanted to close her eyes again.

“Stay with us, honey. You're going to be just fine.” The woman again. “Don't worry.”

Liesel wished she had the strength to tell the nurse, doctor, whatever she was, to piss off and let her sleep. Pain was practically flooding her body. This was worse than all the times she had fallen off her bike, broke fingers playing softball and running into the gym wall during kickball in seventh grade. They'd probably give her painkillers once they found out what all was wrong. Well, she could tell them what was wrong if she could talk. Her entire left side hurt, her hands hurt and it was hard to breathe. At least she could feel the pain in her legs. That meant her back wasn't injured. 

The hands on her face were gone. Good. Her whole face hurt.

“Skull is fine – just bruises.” Another man. “That came from the airbag, most likely.” 

Liesel closed her eyes as she felt a tiny prick of a needle on her right arm. Dad had told her it was less than ten seconds to fall asleep under anesthesia. Where was Dad anyway? 

The wonderful, blessed blackness welcomed her and the pain was gone. 

*  
Dean came out of surgery, following the head surgeon. The operation had been a success and he was about to head down to the nurse's station when his text pager went off and he glanced at it, frowning. It was telling him to report to the PICU. He tried to think – what would they need him for down there? He hadn't been involved in any patients there in over two weeks. He put his surgery apron and cap into the trash bin, pulled the covers off his shoes and headed out of the surgical ward. Going up the staff elevator saved him at least ten minutes of walking time – he'd been working here for over ten years and he still felt like the place was a rabbit warren. 

He scanned his badge and the doors swung open and he went over to the nurse's station. “Where am I needed, Angie?” He figured they needed some help with figuring medication, or something – they really should have three pharmacists working nights, not two. 

Angie looked up, and he saw her face go slightly pale. “One minute.” She picked up the phone, her head down, making it impossible to read her lips. 

An uneasy feeling settled over him, and he glanced around the ward. He could see a woman reading to a boy with no hair and a girl of about seven asleep, but the rest of the cubicles were either empty or had their doors drawn shut. A police officer was standing outside one of the rooms; his face a mixture of exhaustion and controlled anger. He started when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Doctor Bradshaw, one of the trauma specialists from the ER. “Frank.” He saw something in the man's face, the same thing that had been in Angie's. “What's going on?” 

His colleague led him away from the nurse's station and down the hallway, towards the room with the cop. “Liesel was brought to the ER earlier this evening, while you were in surgery.”

“What?” Cold fear washed over him. “What happened?”

“Car accident. She's stable, we're just keeping her in the PICU for seventy-two hours for observation.” Frank nodded at the cop and then slid the door of the cubicle open. 

Dean stepped inside and felt his heart go still at the sight of the figure lying on the bed. Liesel looked so small in the hospital bed. Her face was bruised and bandaged, her left arm wrapped in a cast, both of her hands in braces, and under the covers, he could tell that her left leg was also heavily bandaged. Two IVs hung over her bed, one delivering a cocktail of medication and nutrition and the other, blood. The tiny room smelled the way all of them did – of antiseptic and Lysol, but there was also the hint of garlic and butter in the room – the scent that seemed to be permanently on his daughter since she started working at that steakhouse. 

He went over to his daughter and touched her forehead – it was warm and a glance at the monitors told him that her heartbeat was strong and steady. He was too scared to be angry about not being notified at once. Getting angry wouldn't help Liesel. He gave Doctor Bradshaw a worried look. “Is this one of those cases where it looks much worse than it really is?”

“Yes.” Frank came over to the bed. “Right now the most important thing for her is rest.”

Dean nodded. “I'd rather wait and get a full update in the morning. Right now, I just want to sit here with her.”

“Understood.” He turned and left him alone. 

For his part, Dean pulled a chair nearer to the bed, mindful of the cables and sat down. He was afraid to touch her- to move anything, for fear he'd do something to damage her. It reminded him of when she was a newborn and he was terrified of dropping her. He reached out and brushed her forehead, willing himself not to cry. They were just keeping her here for observation. If all went well, she'd be home next week. The sudden thought that she'd be stuck in the hospital for the Fourth made him repress a snort of laughter. She wasn't going to like that one bit – the Kershners were having a barbeque.

That made him cover his eyes and just try to hold himself together. Here Liesel was, battered and broken and he was finding some kind of amusement in the fact that she was going to be angry she was going to miss a party. 

He jumped when he felt a hand on his back and he looked up in to the concerned face of his mother. He stood up and hugged her tightly, rather surprised when she took over the embrace and smoothed down his hair, like he was still a child. She guided him back into the chair and squeezed his hand. _“It's going to be all right, Dean.”_

 _“I know, mom. It's just hard to think that way at the moment.”_ He let out a breath and frowned as he caught sight of his dad talking to the police officer. _“Do you know what happened?”_

Elisa nodded. “ _Someone hit her. The accident wasn't her fault.”_ His mother got the same sour expression she got when they discussed John Winchester. _“The little shit didn't even stop either. They caught him down the road in a speed trap by the Mulberry Farms subdivision.”_ Dean resisted the urge to stand and start demanding answers. His mother went, got the other chair and sat down. _“The officer informed us he's sobering up downtown.”_ The corner of her mouth twitched and he knew his mother was full on pissed. He hadn't seen her this angry in – well, a very long time. _“I have half a mind to text Castiel and ask him to put the fear of God in the boy.”_

 _“I don't think it will do any good.”_ Dean ran a hand through his hair. _“Wait, this was a kid?”_

 _“Well, he's nineteen – that counts as a kid in my book.”_ Elisa folded her arms and changed her focus onto Liesel – a sure sign that this conversation was over. 

*

Liesel swam upward towards consciousness, trying to remember what exactly had happened. She remembered the wreck, wanting to tell a nurse to piss off and then she found herself sitting back at the Campbell's dinner table, only this time, instead of roast beef, they were eating spaghetti and meatballs. Now that she was starting to wake up, other things started asserting themselves. An even beeping sound and something was tickling her nose. Her left leg felt like it was asleep – but at least she could feel it. Her hands felt dull and she was vaguely aware of her chest hurting – that was the worst pain. She was also hungry. That, more than anything, was making her wake up. Another sound made itself known as she drifted awake. 

Music. 

It took her brain a few seconds to register the artist as Celtic Woman – but the song wasn't registering.

She tried to cough and was rewarded by a stabbing pain in her ribs. 

“Lis?” Relief washed through her. She knew that voice. 

She opened her eyes, blinking a few moments in the darkness. “Dad.” She had a feeling she mouthed the word – her throat was dry. They were in a room with muted light and she could make out a few details – mainly that Dad was in the same scrubs she'd seen him toss into his bag last – well, the last time she saw him. 

“You know where you are?” Dad was leaning close to her and she suddenly realized that he'd started to get old. She hadn't noticed the lines forming at the corners of his eyes or the few bits of gray in his hair. 

It was easier to shake her head than to speak. 

“You're in the hospital – in the ICU. You're going to be just fine.” He kissed her forehead and then he pulled back. Liesel saw the nurse out of the corner of her eye and she shifted her gaze to watch the woman change her IV bag. She looked down at her and gave her a small smile. 

“Good morning.” She checked a few things and then spoke again. “I bet you're hungry.”

She managed a small nod. It didn't hurt to swallow – but for some reason, it did hurt to talk. Weird. 

“I'll help her with that.” Her dad said from her other side. “Soft diet?” He put a straw in the cup on the tray in front of her, almost as soon as it was set down and a moment later, the relief of cold water washed down her throat.

“Yes.” The nurse did a few more things and Liesel became more awake – able to make out a few more details. Grandma was standing outside the room, watching from the doorway, but her expression was hard to read. Her stuffed dog was tucked in bed next to her right arm – the one without an IV. “All right, Liesel? Can you tell me what your pain level is on a scale of one to ten.” 

She tried to frown, but was rewarded by a spark of pain. All in all, she felt better than she had when she first got here, but she still felt terrible. “Eight.” She mouthed and then she coughed again and this time the pain in her chest was more sharp. Her right side didn't hurt so much, but her left certainly did.

“We'll see what we can do about that.” She scribbled something down and then was gone. 

The prospect of food made things a little better. She knew what soft diet was – eggs, jell-o, mashed potatoes. She just hoped that if there was pasta, Dad would remember to not have the kitchen put sauce on it. Like her dad, she hated canned pasta sauce. Well, unless it was macaroni and cheese. She let out a sigh as her dad offered her a little more water. 

*  
Over the course of the day, it was all explained to her. She had several broken bones, her face and neck were bruised thanks to the airbag – and the later injury was what was making it almost impossible for her to speak. Once the bruising was gone, she'd be able to speak again. With both her hands broken and her throat damaged – she was left almost voiceless. At least her dad and her grandparents could read lips. 

The next day more things were revealed. Her car was a lost cause – she sort of figured that out on her own. The teenager who hit her had been driving a white Hummer. That fact made her very glad to be alive – and said teenager was in a shitload of trouble. Not just for hitting her; he'd been driving on the wrong side of the road, ran the red light, he'd been speeding, left the scene of the accident, he'd been driving under the influence – and he was driving on a suspended license.

On the morning of the Fourth of July, the doctors cleared her from the all soft-food diet and she could start eating more substantial things. It was in the middle of a much wanted breakfast of pancakes and even better, bacon, what was going to be another long day of answering questions and bad television was alleviated by the arrival of Georgiana. Liesel almost laughed as her friend swept into her room, and she kept checking behind her, as if she expected to get caught.

“Liesel! I found you! ” She said, brightly and sat down on the foot of the bed, grinning. “I know you were moving to the regular ward today, but I figured they might make an exception.” 

Liesel chuckled and shook her head as Angie came in. She was probably her favorite nurse out of the many who came in and out of the PICU. The woman took one look at her friend and smiled. “Now, let the poor girl eat her breakfast in peace. She's earned that bacon.”

“Thank you.” It's about the only sign she can really make at the moment. The only real problem she could see was becoming familiar with a new set of nurses. “I can't talk very well.” She said to Georgiana as Angie changed her IV. 

“Oh, it's okay.” The girl took a deep breath. “And I think that it really, really stinks that you're in here. In fact, I think that it stinks that anyone has to be in the ICU, and the fact that there has to be an ICU for anyone stinks more than a Grand Canyon full of manure.”

Neither Liesel nor Angie could repress their laughter. Liesel had to stop when her ribs started hurting again and she took a few bites of pancakes before regaining her composure. 

“Don't get her all excited.” Angie admonished and swept out of the room.

“Did she just more or less say I could break you out of here?” Georgiana grinned. “You eat, I'll talk.”

“Isn't that the way it usually is?” She replied and turned her attention to her meal.

*  
Liesel hated being confined to a wheelchair. Because of her ribs and hands, she couldn't do crutches. She sat near the window with some other kids, watching the fireworks explode in the sky. The park where it was taking place was just across the road from the hospital, so they practically had a front row seat – minus the bugs, the heat and chatter of other people. It wasn't as much fun as it would have been going to the Kershner's party, but she was just glad to be awake and on the road to recovery. She knew it could have been a lot worse. 

She'd seen pictures of what the scene looked like – and had been horrified. She was also glad that she'd not hit anyone else – and she knew she could have. 

And she also knew her summer was more or less ruined. The cast on her leg and the braces on her hands would have to be in place for six weeks. In six weeks, school started. No more working, no more swimming, pretty much everything was out of the question except doing summer reading. Knowing her dad, he'd have her use the time to narrow down the colleges she wanted to apply to. 

Once the fireworks were done and she was back in her new room – complete with a roommate, a nine year old named Dianna, she found that the bed in the pediatric ward wasn't much more comfortable than the once in the PICU. Liesel had a feeling it was because her injuries kept her from being in her usual sleeping position – curled up on her left side. She couldn't even curl up on her right side, thanks to her hand. 

The was was different than the PICU, which, thanks to the way it was designed, was mostly quiet. Here, however, was a different story. Somewhere out in the ward, someone was crying. There were rumbles of carts and the chattering of nurses – how was she supposed to sleep like this? A nurse walked into the room, checked on the both of them (Dianna was snoring lightly) and then went back out. 

She wasn't sure how long she slept before a commotion in the hall woke her up. Dianna must have woken up too, because the girl got up and, under the guise of going to the bathroom, came back and sat down on Liesel's bed like they were at a slumber party. “Someone went bananas.”

“Can't they do that when we're all awake?” Liesel rasped out, coughing once. 

“No, because that would be convenient.” Dianna's face fell as a nurse bustled into the room.

“All right you two, it's time to sleep.” She shooed the younger girl back to her bed and after checking Liesel's IV – she still wasn't rid of the damn thing – left the room, closing the door behind her. 

“Great, Code Yellow.” Liesel rasped and closed her eyes.

“What's Code Yellow?” Dianna asked from her bed.

“Behavioral Disturbance that requires a ward to be on lock-down.” She winced at the pain in her chest. “Like either of us could cause that much trouble.”

“All we'd need to do is hook your I-Pod into my laptop, turn the volume up on full and we could have this place rocking in a matter of minutes.” Dianna giggled. “That'd be fun.”

“I think we better go to sleep before the nurse comes back and _puts_ us asleep.” Liesel closed her eyes and drifted off – still hearing the girl's laughter in her mind.

**  
Liesel was very glad to be home. While the doctors were concerned about her ribs and wanted to keep her in a place where she could rest and be monitored, it'd been argued that with her grandparents and friends to keep an eye on her, she wouldn't strain herself. A month ago she would have thought that three broken ribs were nothing – now all she could think about how glad she was she didn't have allergies that would aggravate her lungs and thus, her rib cage. 

Her hands were now in braces that offered her some movement – mostly to weld a fork and spoon. Signing was currently out of the question. Her broken leg was almost negligible compared to her ribs.

So now here she was, lying on the couch, watching the opening ceremonies of the 2020 Olympic Games in Tokyo. 

The Portsmouth Steakhouse had to let her go, but the manager had told her to reapply as soon as she was cleared for work and she would most certainly be rehired. Between the loss of her job, the loss of getting to swim and worst of all, the loss of her car, this summer had been spectacularly lousy.

“You need anything, Lis?” Her dad came into the room after changing clothes from work and headed for the kitchen.

“I think I'm good.” She indicated the nearly full glass of iced tea next to her. 

“I'll get our dinner and I'll be right back.” He went into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a basket of garlic knots and two bowls of salad. “Where are they in the Parade of Nations?”

She took the offered bowl of salad. “Thanks. They haven't started – they're still on the show part of it – so it's mostly a lot of fireworks so far. They keep mentioning that this Japan's first games in twenty-two years. And that was the Winter Games.”

“I barely remember Nagano – of course, the only thing I ever watch in the Winter Games is bobsledding and hockey.” He settled down onto the couch next to her. “And the skeleton.” He shook his head. “That sport is insane.”

“At least they don't have to dodge trees or worry about rocks.” Liesel adjusted her hold on her fork. “Weren't World Championships held in Japan in Ninety-Eight too?” 

Her father's face took on a nostalgic look and he smiled. “The men took home the bronze and the girls took home the silver.” Tears formed at the corner of his eyes. “That was the year your mom was crowned world champion.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head – if she didn't know any better, Liesel thought he was about ready to laugh. “Every girl who was a senior elite in my gym in Maryland hated her or wanted to be her.” He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

“Considering what mom had to give up in order to get it...” She sighed and turned her attention back to eating. A moment later, a garlic knot appeared in her bowl and she looked up. “Dad...”

“Hush. You're under orders not to strain yourself and given the fact I know said doctor, I'm going to make sure you follow them.” He smiled and gently ruffled her hair. “Now eat your dinner like a good girl.”

Liesel had to restrain herself from laughing and they continued their dinner in silence for a while, watching the opening ceremonies. It was shortly after the delegation of Greek athletes marched into the stadium that she noticed her dad wasn't watching the TV, but watching her. “Dad? Is something wrong?”

“I just realized something – I never directly asked you if you wanted to do gymnastics.” The look on his face was odd. She couldn't place it. She always thought that the reason her dad never brought it up was because he didn't want her doing the sport.

“I thought about.” She bit at her bottom lip. “But...”

“Lis? What is it?” Liesel couldn't imagine why dad was thinking about this – then again, she was getting ready to start her senior year of high school. After the incident of her going back to nineteen seventy-three back in May and with the car accident, maybe he was having one of those weird 'did I mess up raising you' moments. Well, there certainly was no need to lie to him about it.

“The expectations would have been too high.” Saying out loud almost made it sound like a cop-out. 

“Expectations from who? I wouldn't have cared how you did as long as you were enjoying it.” He frowned. “Come on, Half-Pint, fess up.”

Liesel nearly laughed at her dad using her classmates' nickname for her. “Think about it. Mom was a five time Olympic medalist and a World Champion. I can't even keep track of all the contests you won. I'd be judged five times harder than everyone else. It wouldn't matter how good I was, I'd be expected to be flawless.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment and then sighed. “Liesel Andrea, I wouldn't have cared. You are talking to someone who bailed on his fellow gymnasts before Worlds in two-thousand one.”

“You didn't bail, you went out with a roar and a very obvious 'go to hell' to US Gymnastics. Pardon the curse.” She closed her eyes, sighing. “It doesn't matter.” 

“So you have a point.” She heard him move something and she opened her eyes. “There's not something else you've wanted to do and haven't told me about, is there? Learn to play a musical instrument, go skydiving...”

“Dad, I hate to fly. Almost as much as you do.” She grinned. “Besides, you were out of the room when I learned something.”

“And what's that?” Her dad's eyebrows lifted.

“The decision was made that at the next summer games – baseball _and_ softball are back in as events.” She saw the smile spread on his face. “Way I figure, I can make the Games in Baltimore and Melbourne.” 

“Liesel.” Dad's face went stern. “While that is a very noble ambition we are not going to discuss that right now.”

“I know, I know...I need to focus on getting better.” She bit into her garlic knot.  
_  
“No, I just don't want to think about you being twenty years old when I'm still adjusting to you being sixteen.”_ He grinned and took their empty bowls into the kitchen.

Liesel chewed thoughtfully for a moment and decided maybe he was right. She settled back into the sofa, watching the countries march past the camera on the screen. She knew it was a long shot – there were tons of young women her age who played softball. There wasn't any harm in attempting it.


End file.
